


In Which A Village Girl Becomes A Scholar

by TWFKA3I



Category: Original Work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-11
Updated: 2017-06-11
Packaged: 2018-11-12 17:30:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11166645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TWFKA3I/pseuds/TWFKA3I





	In Which A Village Girl Becomes A Scholar

The scorching heat of the sun beating down combined with the flames of the fire she was fanning. Meha was almost dizzy with the heat. It was the first day of ‘Eid, and Meha was busy frying the balls of cinnamon scented dough that she would later sell to the celebrating throngs. She heard the first stirrings of the Adhan calling the people to joyous celebration and prayer. Instead of getting lost in daydreams of the prayers, as she could not attend, Meha fanned the flames hotter.

The day only got hotter as the sun rose higher, but Meha was grateful to be vending her wares and no longer sitting in front of the flames, having given that job to her sister. Instead she called out “hot buns, hot fried buns” to coax those celebrating to her wares. Mothers bought fried buns as treats for their children and young men bought the buns by the dozen. In the distance, she heard the rumbling of the Emperor and his retinue as they completed their yearly mingling with the commoners, celebrating this holy day with them and handing out food and presents. Later, the king’s soldiers would be allowed free reign and they would spend freely on food and presents. The money would sustain much of the village until the next holy day.

When the soldiers were allowed free reign, Meha’s buns sold even more quickly and she had to keep replenishing her supply from her sister. On her third trip to replenish, she witnessed two of the soldiers having a heated conversation behind a villager’s food shack. On her fourth trip, the heated conversation had escalated to a physical altercation. On her fifth trip, one of the soldiers was laid out unconscious behind the food stand. She stared for a minute, and then walked on.

As the day went on and as Meha walked back and forth replenishing her store of buns, the soldier gradually regained consciousness but stayed behind the food shack. Meha discreetly watched him every time she passed by, but didn’t stop or speak to him. It wasn’t until the sun had set and the moon was high in the sky, and the crowds had dispersed to rest for the second day of ‘Eid, and Meha had sold all but two of her balls of fried cinnamon dough and was walking home for the last time; it wasn’t until then that Meha stopped at the food shop and looked at the soldier.

He lay in the dirt. His turban was askew, his clothing covered in dust, and his weapons were gone. One eye was swollen shut. One leg stuck out at a strange angle, and was soaked in now dried blood. She handed the soldier the two remaining buns.

“My name is Meha,” she said. “I’m going to get you help. I’ll come back.”

She returned with her sister, Sheba, and together they managed to get the soldier into a sling and they carried him back to the small home they shared with their mother and father. They bathed his fever, cleaned and set his leg, and cleaned and bound his other injuries. Their father fashioned a splint for the soldier’s leg and dressed the soldier in his own clothing. The girls fashioned a pallet for the soldier to sleep on. Their mother fed the soldier porridge. Then they left him to sleep.

The following morning he told them his name: Aditya.

The soldier stayed with them as he healed. When he could stand and bear his own weight again, he would help Meha’s father with the manual labor. But he rarely spoke, except to thank Meha’s mother for meals and to ask Meha’s father what work he should do next. Often, Meha would find him outside staring out into the distance in the direction of the Emperor’s palace.

One day, when his leg had fully healed, Aditya didn’t come inside for dinner. Meha was sent to fetch him. She found him standing outside and staring off into the distance.

“Mother is calling you for the evening meal,” she called out to him.

“Okay.” He finally turned towards her and began walking to the house.

“You’re going to go back to the palace.”

“Of course.”

“When you go back, take me with you.”

He didn’t reply. He walked past her and entered their home.

At dawn the next day, Meha’s father gave the soldier a sack of provisions and bid him farewell and the family returned to their normal routine. Except for Meha. While her father was out tending the fields, she too outfitted herself with a sack of provisions and a set of her father’s clothes. And while her mother, father, and sister were busy with the day’s work, she snuck out after the soldier. She caught up with him after the sun was already high; he had paused for a meal. He looked at her and said, “Anybody who caught you dressed like that would maul you. What do you want.”

She ignored his comment about how she was dressed; she knew her father’s clothes fit her poorly and that her face and demeanor would give her away. She only hoped to avoid being identified as a lone woman from a distance, and for that purpose her father’s clothing served well.

“I want to come with you to the palace.”

“No.”

“Very well. I will accompany you to the palace anyhow.”

“I will take you to the nearest village chief and let him decide how to deal with a woman who wants to become a man.”

“I saved your life.”

“And I thanked you.”

“I want to go to the palace.”

“And I want you to go back home.”

“Take me with you and I’ll marry you.”

“I am not looking for a wife.”

“Please.”

“No.”

“I’ll just follow you anyway. You don’t have to be responsible for me.”

“No.” He began packing up his things.

“I will do whatever you want if you take me with you to the palace. Please.”

“No.” He got up walked away.

Meha waited until he was out of sight. Then she continued following him.

They repeated the pattern for the rest of the day. Meha would track Aditya and follow him. Each time he took a break, she would catch up to him and beg him to take her to the palace with him. He would refuse, and get up and leave her. She would follow him. Aditya reached the edge of the town surrounding the palace. Then he stopped and waited for Meha to catch up to him.

“I will take you into the palace,” he said. “You will be a servant; I will tell the guards at the gate that I was sent to retrieve you. Change your clothes and stay behind me. When we enter, make yourself busy. Blend in with the other servant girls. I can do nothing else for you but I will get you into the palace.”

They managed to enter the palace with little trouble. He directed her towards the servants quarters and told her “I hope you find what you’re looking for here.” And then he left her. Meha crept into the servants quarters, crawled into a corner, and waited for dawn. She ended up being awoken before dawn. The woman in charge of the servants screamed at her to wake up. After interrogating her as to what she was doing there and what she thought her job was, she ordered Meha to go tend to the animals. She was to sweep the chicken coop, gather the eggs, milk the cows, and tend to the water buffalo before they were sent out to the fields. By the time Meha had finished all this, the sun was high in the sky and there was no food remaining for her. The woman in charge berated her for laziness and told her to go clean the servants hall. Then she was ordered to clean out the outhouse. The old woman piled on more work and by late afternoon, Meha was tired, starving, and filthy. She had been ordered to clean out the hearths throughout the palace.

She managed to get lost and thinking the door was to the Emperor’s rooms, she instead opened the door to the chambers where the Emperor Jahanjir was holding court and where the old woman in charge of the servants was serving one of the Emperor’s advisors. She fled the room as soon as she realized where she was, but of course, everyone had already seen her. She returned to servants quarters. Unsure what to do, she simply laid down in the corner that she had picked out for herself.

Hours later she was woken up, though this time by one of the younger serving girls. The girl looked at her fearfully and told her that the advisor whose meeting she had interrupted wanted to see her. The young girl did not have a reason why, but cautioned Meha to “please do not shame the mother.” The mother, of course, was the old woman in charge of the servants.

“You are new here, correct?”, the advisor asked Meha as she kneeled in front of him.

“Yes, Sahib.”

“I need you to watch the other advisors for me. Be as clueless as you can and open whatever doors you believe they’re hiding behind, as you so capably did today.”

“Sahib-”

“Tell your house mother than you are now personally responsible for the upkeep of my rooms. Every day you will tell me what you have learned. I shall pay you for any information you give me.”

“Yes, Sahib.”

“Good.” He dismissed Meha.

Over the next year, Meha managed to fulfill this role admirably. She listened at doors, mastered how to always have a purpose in the room where she needed to be, and learned how to sink beneath the mother’s notice. She learned of information that was useful to her, like the fact that she could (and did) learn to read and write from one of the servant girls so long as she paid her a portion of her wages. She learned how to successfully pass as a man from another one of the girls who regularly left the palace in the form of a stable boy and returned with treats and information about the outside world for sale. She used her fried cinnamon buns to trade work assignments and ensure that she would be working in the rooms where private meetings among the advisors happened. In short, Meha felt fulfilled, and maybe even happy.

And then she overheard a conversation. “I have opened my new school in Calcutta. I’d like you to be my ambassador there. Report to me how the school is doing, and tell me what the European powers are doing in response. Encourage them to send their children here.”

“Yes, your excellency.”

That evening, she reported to the advisor for the briefing. But instead of telling him what she had learned that day, she asked him, “Does your wife need a handmaiden to move with her to Calcutta?”

He looked at her in shock. But he replied, “Yes, my wife will require a handmaiden.”

Three months later, when the advisor and his family moved to Calcutta to take on his new role, Meha went with them. When classes opened, a mild mannered young man with a small, slight build presented the instructor with a letter of patronage from the Emperor himself granting permission to attend the university.

The boy’s peers and instructors were all very confused by the young man. He had the patronage of the emperor, but seemed too quiet to have earned it. He did not ask questions in class nor did he seem proud, though he received the highest marks in the class. He was not of high birth, and he evaded all questions about his family and his background. He went back home to do his studies, instead of spending time with the other boys.

This young man, of course, was Meha.


End file.
